All About The Teasing
by WhiteFerrets
Summary: Religion wasn't what was stopping Quinn from hopping on Finn's dick, not by a long shot. Santana had been patient, but it was time for her to have some fun. Quinntana Week Day 1: UST.


**A/N: This was written for day one of quinntana week.**

**Rating: R  
><strong>**Warning: Sexual content.  
><strong>**Word Count: 3000+  
>Characters: Quinn FabraySantana Lopez.**

**Summary: Religion wasn't what was stopping Quinn from hopping on Finn's dick, not by a long shot. Quinn Fabray was capital-G Gay, and Santana saw through her act almost as soon as she laid eyes on her. She'd been patient, but now it was time for her to have some fun. **

* * *

><p><strong>I. <strong>

Celibacy club had always been a total bore, but with Rachel Berry joining the group, Santana found it downright unbearable. Sometimes she couldn't help but wonder why she bothered going to the stupid club just to listen to Perfect Fucking Queen B. Fabray rant on and on about religion and abstinence and shit. Best friend or not, Santana could only take so much of it, and if it wasn't for Coach Sue's promise of extra tanning time at the salon, she wouldn't give it the time of day.

The whole club was a joke anyway. It mostly consisted of the jocks and the cheerleaders, all the _popular_ kids that were meant to send a good message to the school. But most of the Cheerios slept around just as much as Santana did, if not more, and the jocks were just as guilty. None of them really gave a shit about abstinence, aside from Quinn Fabray. Sweet, innocent, perfect Quinn Fabray.

That girl was a bigger joke than the club itself. Santana loved her, of course she did, but she was a joke nonetheless. With her blonde hair and pretty little white satin dresses, she was just a little bit _too_ perfect — the straight, popular, stunning head cheerleader that stood up for what she believed in and won everyone over with that dazzling smile. Don't even get Santana started on the whole virgin Christian thing either, because she could rant about that all day.

The fact of the matter was, Quinn Fabray was perfection. In everyone's eyes, even those of her victims, there was nobody more inspiring and gorgeous as Quinn. If Santana couldn't see through the good girl act, she'd probably be a little bit jealous. But she'd seen through Quinn almost as soon as she laid eyes on her and it made the whole thing goddamn hilarious.

Because religion wasn't what was stopping Quinn from hopping on Finn's dick, not by a long shot. Quinn wanted sex, even if she wouldn't admit it to herself. She just didn't want it with a _guy_.

Santana technically didn't have any solid evidence of Quinn's sexuality, but she'd seen enough to believe it. Getting flustered in the locker rooms, crossing her legs when there were scantily clad girls on the television, avoiding all the Cheerios when they took a dip in Quinn's uncle's pool — oh yes, Quinn Fabray was capital-G Gay and so deep in the closet that she was practically sharing a bed with Mr. Tumnus.

She had never let Quinn know that she knew. Not when she caught her staring at her ass or her lips, not when her eyes bugged out of her head during the lesbian sex scene in Jennifer's Body, not when she scampered off to the bathroom as soon as the credits started rolling. It was a pretty amazing feat., actually, that she'd managed to keep her lips sealed and her eye rolls to herself, because Quinn was so _obvious_ that it was almost endearing.

But it was in celibacy club with Rachel fucking Berry that Santana finally decided to have her fun with Quinn. If the club was boring enough with just Quinn, it was even worse with Rachel too, and she was _bored_. So when Santana stepped forward to spin around in her tiny Cheerios skirt and Quinn's gaze lingered a moment longer than the rest of the girls, she didn't even try to hide the smug smirk.

"Remember the motto, girls. It's all about the teasing and not about pleasing."

She danced with the rest of the girls, rolling her body and grinding her hips. She felt Quinn's eyes on her again and she raised an eyebrow playfully, which earned her a blush and flustered gasp before Quinn squirmed away from the girls on either side of her and returned to her seat.

The rest of the session was as boring as usual, although she had to physically stop herself from yelling "Preach, girl!" when Rachel called Quinn out and told the guys that chicks wanted to get laid as much as the dicks.

Then the rest of the group quickly disbanded, and a flustered Quinn Fabray lingered behind, wanting to be the last to leave. Santana waited outside the door, a satisfied smirk on her lips as she let herself get lost in her thoughts. Quinn barely spared her a glance as she stalked past but Santana was hot on her heels, her thumbs hooked through the straps of her backpack.

"You know, Q, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you enjoyed watching me just a little too much," Santana quipped arrogantly.

Quinn looked over her shoulder to glare at Santana, her cheeks tinged pink and her jaw clenching. Santana gave her a knowing smile.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Quinn snapped, almost throwing her books into her locker when she reached it.

"Sure you do. But you know what, it's understandable. I'm hot as hell-"

"Don't say that word."

"-And I'm pretty irresistible. But don't worry, Fabray, your secret's safe with me. I won't tell a soul. See you around, babe."

She smiled again and bumped her hip against Quinn's as she passed her, tightening her ponytail and walking away. She didn't have to look back to know that Quinn was red in the face with embarrassment and she felt pretty fucking proud to know that she could wreck her so easily. This was going to be _fun_.

**II.**

Santana left Quinn alone for a grand total of three days. Now that she'd started teasing her, she didn't want to stop, and she could only watch the girl rush out of the locker room so many times before the temptation became too much. So she invited Quinn over for a sleepover. A girl's night in, an all-night movie marathon, some _girl_ time.

Quinn was fine when she got there, and Santana had to admit that she did a pretty good job of pretending nothing happened, but she caught the nervous fear behind her eyes and had to turn away just so her smirk didn't set off Quinn's alarm bells too soon.

She made her way into the kitchen, certain that Quinn was following her, and bent down to get a bottle of vodka from the fridge. Her dress was short, ridiculously so, and she wore a thong that wasn't much more than a few pieces of string. There was no way in hell that she_wasn't_ giving Quinn a full back door view.

"What are you doing?" Quinn asked, her voice tense and her words clipped.

Santana bit back her smirk as she pulled the bottle out and stood up slowly, closing the fridge. She turned and held the vodka up with a smile, giving herself a mental high five at the blush creeping up Quinn's chest and the uncomfortable look on her face.

"Getting refreshments," she replied in a sickly sweet voice. "Now move your ass into the lounge, Fabray. The movie's all set up."

"… What are we watching?"

"Some animal movie that'll probably make you sob your heart out. Come on, move."

If Quinn felt the tap on her ass as Santana passed her (which she definitely did), she didn't dislike it enough to protest.

The next few hours passed without any teasing or witty remarks from Santana, although she managed to get Quinn to drink after calling her a goody-two-shoes daddy's girl a few times. She didn't drink much but Santana still considered it a victory.

Night fell and they got bored of the movies, so they headed up to Santana's room to get some sleep. Santana was pleasantly buzzed but definitely not drunk, and from the way Quinn giggled and stumbled her way up the stairs, Santana figured that she was at least tipsy. Innocent Little Miss Fabray was intoxicated. How _cute_.

Once Quinn was comfortably settled on the bed, sitting on the pillows with her legs stretched out in front of her and her ankles crossed, Santana gave her a suggestive smile and turned her back, pulling her dress off.

"What on earth are you doing?" Quinn demanded in a loud, scandalised tone.

"Changing," Santana drawled, tossing the dress aside. "In case you haven't noticed, that dress was tight as fuck, and I'd rather sleep in something more … _comfortable_."

"Oh. I … right. Okay."

Santana smirked to herself as she felt Quinn's eyes on her back and she rolled her shoulders leisurely. She took her time, reaching between her shoulder blades and arching her back slightly as she opened the clasp of her bra. She let the clasp roll undone between her fingers before she let it go and shrugged the straps off of her shoulders. As she flung the bra behind her, onto the bed, she couldn't help but bite her lip in amusement at the sound of the sheets rustling frantically. She didn't have to look over to know that Quinn had flinched away from the bra like it could burn her.

She hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her panties and slid them down, down, down her legs slowly, leaving her completely naked. She kicked the thong aside and picked her nightdress up from the chair beside her, slipping it over her head. It was shorter than her dress had been, only just covering her ass cheeks, and the thin cotton made her dark skin very visible through the material. She was going to make that girl _squirm_.

Finally, Santana turned back to the bed and felt a swell of pride (and heat in the pit of her stomach that she definitely would not name) when she laid eyes on Quinn. Quinn was blushing up to her roots and had one leg crossed firmly over the other, her gaze fixed on the hem of Santana's nightdress. She looked up slowly, giving Santana a sheepish look as they made eye contact.

"See something you like, babe?"

Quinn swallowed thickly. "No."

"Sure thing, Q. Whatever you say. You gonna get changed or not?"

She glared at Santana before grabbing her overnight bag and scrambling to the bathroom to change away from Santana's mischievous smile, which only made Santana laugh and lay out on the bed. She closed her eyes, fingers idly drawing patterns across her sheets while she waited. She felt the heat between her legs intensify as she remembered the look on Quinn's face, and groaned when she realised what that meant.

She was _not_ getting turned on over Quinn checking her out.

Absolutely not.

Quinn chose that moment to walk back in and Santana forced a sexy smile onto her face, shamelessly looking Quinn up and down. The girl squirmed under her eyes, her lilac nightdress rising up her thigh slightly as she climbed onto the bed beside Santana.

After a long silence, Quinn raised an eyebrow and quipped, "See something you like, _babe_?" Her voice was shaky but it was enough to make Santana look up with a lazy smirk.

Instead of giving a proper reply, she just ran her finger along the hem of Quinn's nightdress and murmured, "Perfect fucking Quinn Fabray."

"… We should go to sleep," Quinn mumbled quietly, shifting away from Santana's hand. Santana let out a sigh and wriggled under the covers, turning her back to Quinn as she did the same. The throbbing between her legs was hard to ignore and the only thing that calmed her was knowing that Quinn was almost definitely in the same situation as her.

Perfect fucking Quinn Fabray indeed.

**III.**

Santana was bored out of her mind and horny as fuck, and it was beyond frustrating. It was only eight o'clock, but it was a Friday night and she had nothing (or more specifically, _no one_) to do. Brittany spent her Friday nights with her family and that stupid cat of hers, Puck had been avoiding her ever since Quinn found out they'd been sexting while the two of them were babysitting, and- _hold on_.

Santana smiled mischievously and rolled onto her stomach, reaching for her phone.

(8:12)  
><em>What color are your panties?<em>

(8:15)  
><strong>… Hello to you, Santana.<strong>

(8:16)  
><em>You didn't answer my question.<em>

(8:16)  
><strong>I'm not wearing any …?<strong>

(8:17)  
><em>Shit, girl. Didn't know you had it in you.<em>

(8:18)  
><strong>I just got out of the shower … <strong>

(8:19)  
><em>Mmhmm. <em>

(8:20)  
><strong>Santana, why are you acting like we're friends?<strong>  
>(8:20)<br>**Last time you acknowledged me, you were tearing me down and calling Puck out as a loser that 'sexts' you while he's with me. **  
>(8:21)<br>**And we haven't hung out since you found out about the pregnancy.**

(8:22)  
><em>Calm your tits, woman. I'm bored. And horny.<em>

(8:23)  
><strong>Whoa.<strong>

(8:24)  
><em>So, are you in a towel?<em>

(8:25)  
><strong>What are you doing?<strong>

(8:26)  
><em>Why do you always doubt my motives, Q? Just go with it.<em>

(8:27)  
><strong>… Yes. I'm in a towel. <strong>

(8:28)  
><em>Where are you?<em>

(8:29)  
><strong>My house.<strong>

(8:29)  
><em>SPECIFICS, Fabray. You're awful at this.<em>

(8:30)  
><strong>At what?<strong>

(8:31)  
><em>Never mind. Answer my question.<em>

(8:32)  
><strong>I'm sitting on my bed …?<strong>

(8:32)  
><em>Mmm. And what are you doing? ;)<em>  
>(8:35)<br>_Quinn?_  
>(8:39)<br>_Quiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinn?_  
>(8:44)<br>_Fabraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay?_  
>(8:48)<br>_Did I scare you off or something? It was just a fucking winky face._  
>(8:58)<br>_Or you're just ignoring me._  
>(9:02)<br>_You're ignoring me._  
>(9:03)<br>_Bitch._  
>(9:04)<br>_I'll deal with my lady boner myself then. _

Frustrated that her booty call hadn't gone to plan, Santana rolled onto her back again and let out a huff. She scrolled through her contacts list and briefly considered calling Matt up for a quickie, but he was dating some girl from a boarding school or something and he'd never been the cheating kind.

Just as she was starting to doze off, her phone vibrated beside her head. Groaning, she rolled away from it. But then it vibrated again. And once more.

(9:43)  
><strong>Sorry.<strong>  
>(9:44)<br>**I got in a fight with Puck.**  
>(9:45)<br>**… Wait, you were trying to sext me? What the FUCK, Santana?**

(9:46)  
><em>Tsk tsk. Language, Q.<em>

(9:47)  
><strong>I'm not gay!<strong>

(9:47)  
><em>Never said you were.<em>

(9:47)  
><strong>And neither are you!<strong>

(9:48)  
><em>Doesn't stop me from fucking Britt senseless, though. And it won't stop me from sexting you either.<em>

(9:49)  
><strong>… I'm not in the mood to deal with this, Santana. <strong>

(9:53)  
><em>Can I ask you a question? <em>

(9:54)  
><strong>Not if it's for your … personal pleasure.<strong>

(9:55)  
><em>I'm not looking for masturbation material, Q. It's just an innocent question.<em>

(9:56)  
><strong>… Go on then. <strong>

Instead of texting her response, Santana dialled Quinn's number and pressed her phone to her ear, slinging her other arm over her eyes. Quinn picked up after one ring. Her voice was hoarse and thick with tears. She sounded exhausted.

"Santana?"

"How did he get into your pants?"

Quinn let out a heavy sigh. "Why do you care?"

"I'm curious. You're so … I don't know, like, _pure_ or whatever. You wouldn't even let Finn touch your tits, and yet you let Puck go all the way? I just can't work out what he did."

"He got me drunk."

"Since when do you drink enough to get drunk?"

"Since I felt like shit and he decided to _comfort_ me, that's when."

"Ah."

"Yeah."

Santana paused and licked her lips. "Did you enjoy it?"

She heard a scoff on the other end, immediately followed by a muffled sob. "He made me feel worse. He just … he just _fucked_ me. There's no other word for it. M- my first time was meant to be sweet and romantic, on my honeymoon, y'know? Instead it was just … dirty."

"Sex _is _dirty, princess."

"You're not helping."

"Never said I was trying to. Do you want me to help? I can help if you want me to."

"And how exactly do you plan on doing that?"

Santana pursed her lips in thought. "You want to know what I would've done? If I was Puck that night? If you'd come to me instead of him?"

"… Santana," Quinn murmured cautiously.

"I would've fucking _worshipped_ you, from your head to your toes and everything in between. I would've made sure you were sober, maybe tipsy because you giggle a lot when you're tipsy and it's cute as fuck, but definitely still sober enough to make your own decisions, just so you couldn't blame it on the alcohol once I was done with you."

"Santana," Quinn mumbled again, a half-hearted protest that went ignored.

"I would've fucked you eventually, but not like Puck did. It'd be hot and dirty and sweaty but slow and sensual at the same time. I'd make you feel fucking amazing, like you were on top of the world and nothing would ever change that."

"Tana, are you drunk?"

"Ssshhh, just close your eyes and imagine. I know you want to. I would've kissed every inch of your skin until you were trembling with want, until you were begging me for more and almost crying in frustration because you were so desperate. I'd wait, though. I wouldn't touch you until I'd kissed all of you. Your arms, your legs, your stomach, your_ tits_."

Santana heard Quinn whimper on the other end of the line and her lips curled into a victorious smirk. She rolled back onto her stomach, crossing her ankles in the air behind her and examining her nails as she continued talking.

"I would make you crazy for it. I'd make you feel wanted like it was my fucking job, and just when you were on the brink of desperation, I'd fuck you. No, I'd _make love_ to you." Santana rolled her eyes at the phrase, but Quinn whimpered again so she figured she'd said the right thing. "I'd work you up until you were almost there, then I'd stop and wait for you to calm down before working you up again. I could go on for hours, Q, you have no idea. And when I finally made you come, when I finally made you scream my name in _ecstasy_, I wouldn't stop there."

"_Santana_," Quinn whimpered.

"I'd keep going, sending you over the edge again and again until you ached with exhaustion. How many times did Puckerman make you come, Quinn? Once? Twice? Did you make you come at all, or did he leave you high and dry after he had his fun? I'd make you come so many times that you'd hardly be able to move once I was done with you. Did he stay the night, or did he get his stuff and go? I wouldn't do that, you know. Leave afterwards. I'd stay."

There's a choked gasp on the other end of the phone that broke into a breathless moan, and Santana laughed silently when Quinn swore under her breath and hung up.

She gave the girl a moment to collect herself before sending her a text.

(10:16)  
><em>And that, my friend, is a proper orgasm.<em>

(10:17)  
><strong>You don't know what you're talking about. Go away.<strong>

(10:18)  
><em>I know what an orgasm sounds like. Did you enjoy my story, Quinn?<em>

(10:18)  
><strong>Go. Away.<strong>

(10:19)  
><em>Were you touching yourself while I was talking?<em>

(10:21)  
><strong>I hate you. I hate you I hate you I hate you.<strong>

(10:22)  
><em>That moan of yours said differently, sweetie.<em>

(10:23)  
><strong>Shut up. <strong>

(10:23)  
><em>Make me.<em>

(10:24)  
><strong>If you tell anyone about this, Santana, I swear to God I will hunt you down and kill you with my bare hands.<strong>

(10:25)  
><em>Don't worry, Preggers. It'll be our dirty little secret ;) <em>

(10:28)  
><strong>I hate you so much. <strong>

Filled with satisfaction, Santana turned her phone off and settled down for some much-needed beauty sleep. She pointedly ignored the dull throbbing between her legs and fell asleep quickly, but she was awake a few hours later after a very vivid sex dream with her arousal more painfully obvious than ever.

You could threaten Santana with a gun and she'd still deny that the girl in her dream was the one she'd just been teasing. And even if you held that gun to her head and put your finger against the trigger, she'd never admit that her hand found its way between her legs that night. And she'd _definitely _never admit that fantasising about the scenario she'd told earlier that night was the only thing she even considered getting off to.

Because she was _not_ attracted to Quinn, goddamnit.

* * *

><p><em><strong>FIN. <strong>_  
><strong>Feedback is appreciated. (:<strong>


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